


After Hours

by second_skin



Series: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea Plays Matchmaker, Established Relationship, Everyone Looks Good in a Waistcoat, F/F, Humor, Roleplay, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_skin/pseuds/second_skin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Anthea and Sally get on well together.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by fengirl and turante. Originally posted under old pseud; reposting under new.

"About time you got here. Expected you hours ago. What have you been up to?"

"Just work. You know how it is. Mycroft was debriefing Lestrade about that Baskerville business. The boss said he wanted me to take notes, but I think I was there as chaperone. You can tell he's desperately in lust with Lestrade. I keep telling him he should just go for it," she explained with a wink.

Anthea wiggled out of her perfectly tailored grey suit jacket and skirt, and stood at the edge of the bed. Black lace camisole, black panties, smooth, so-long-they-ought-to-be-illegal bare legs leading down to shiny black open-toe heels. She knew she looked beautiful. No lack of confidence in that department--or really, in any department at all, let's face it. She combed her fingers through her thick dark hair, leaning forward, hooking her fingers into the waistband of her panties to pull them down over her hip bones and soft belly. Grinning and posing playfully for the audience of one, before kicking off her shoes and throwing herself facedown onto the duvet with a sigh.

"Those dears," she said, crawling under the covers, "I hope they eventually get there."She reached over to the bedside table to find her Blackberry.

Half- reclining against the pillows, the world's most dangerous PA began checking email, rapidly clicking crimson nails on the keys, until a strong, French-manicured hand reached out to seize the device and toss it to the carpet.

"Oh my god, woman--I've told you I don't want that thing in my bed."

Anthea giggled as she allowed her body to be tugged and folded into position for a proper welcoming kiss and cuddle.

"You smell so good," whispered Sally, nuzzling Anthea's neck and licking the remnants of Burnished Cherry gloss from her lips. They both closed their eyes and caressed lazily for a few minutes, enjoying the exchange of warmth and the feel of skin on skin again after days apart.

Sally was a talker, able to chatter before, during, and after, and Anthea had discovered she rather liked the challenge of trying to follow the twists and turns of conversation as her arousal increased. She closed her eyes and moved into the heat of Sally's fingertips as they grazed her torso and pulled off her camisole and bra. Wet tongue tickling and sucking at each hard, pink nipple in turn and sending pulses of desire deep--and deeper-- into her core.

"I suppose better your Holmes brother than the Freak, but I don't like the idea of either one of them with Lestrade, you know," said Sally, before kissing a path between Anthea's breasts and up to her collarbone and pretty pale neck.

Anthea felt her own pulse thrumming against Sally's lips now, and pressed closer, grunting a vague response as she impatiently removed her own underwear, grasped Sally's right hand and placed it just so, curling her fingers in, feeling them wriggle into the slick warmth.

"Ahhh. Now what were you saying?" Anthea asked, pressing her lips to Sally's. A little buzz, a little hum of vibation tickled as she spoke.

Even on the phone, thought Anthea, that voice was always exciting, but it was so much better here and now with their limbs entwined and Sally's long fingers moving between Anthea's legs . . . so much better.

Sally stroked slowly, with practiced control and precision and Anthea's thighs tensed in response.

"Your messing about with them isn't anything to do with _us_ , is it?" Sally asked. "Pushing our bosses together to make more time for us to be together? If that's it, I'll give you my blessing."

Anthea let soft, low moans escape her lips when she felt Sally's thumb rub across her clitoris once . . . and then again . . . and, after an excruciating pause . . . again. She tried to focus on the conversation while trailing kisses down Sally's neck and feeling her breathing quicken.

"I don't need your blessing, Sally, darling. And I'm not messing with them. I'm just _assisting_ Mycroft. That's my job. _Oh. God._ I know he wants Lestrade. He just doesn't know how to make it happen. He's not used to acting on those kinds of urges. . . . _Oh just . . . just a little harder."_

"Speaking of acting on urges," purred Sally, as her fingers moved deeper, exploring her partner, so irresistibly wet and eager.

Anthea pushed her hands into Sally's underwear to squeeze her hips, then inched the white cotton panties down to her knees, using one foot to pull them off completely.

"Admit it, the thought of the bosses together is hot," gasped Anthea, hips tilting forward, scarlet  toes pointing and flexing, back arching so her breasts pressed hard against Sally's lips. "You should be thanking me. You're probably imagining Lestrade doing very naughty things to Mycroft right now."

"Oh, bloody hell," Sally panted, a bit annoyed at Anthea's Freaklike ability to read her mind. "You don't want to do a little role-play do you?" asked Sally as she rolled on top of Anthea, straddling her, pinning her wrists above her head, and kissing her roughly.

"Only if I can be Lestrade," said Anthea, gasping and stretching up to demand another kiss, then wrenching one hand away to rub slow, teasing circles around Sally's clit.

Sally dropped her head forward, letting her hair whisper over Anthea's cheeks. For a moment, Sally was silent, rocking forward and back, spreading wetness over Anthea's fingers. Slowly sweeping up, then rolling her clit quick and hard over Anthea's middle finger before pulling back with a sharp gasp.

But even then, gazing down at Anthea's blissful I-always-get-what-I-want smile, Sally couldn't stop herself from resisting, "But you _always_ want to be Lestrade."

Anthea tried to catch her breath, to distract her body from demanding Sally's mouth on her _now._ She looked sternly into her lover's dark eyes. "Well I can't be Mycroft, obviously. That would create a lot of confusion in our working relationship."

"Wait," said Sally, shaking her head, and abruptly climbing off Anthea. "You can't _be_ Mycroft--because that would be awkward--but you want to play Lestrade _fucking the stuffing out of_ Mycroft? Do you want to talk about your issues with a professional therapist, Anthea?"

"Come on," Anthea wheedled, fondling Sally's shoulders and pulling her close again. "Please be Mycroft. I nicked one of his waistcoats yesterday just in case. It's in my handbag . . . and . . . _maybe_ I could let you top . . . "

Sally was adamant--and starting to pout. "You know I can't do that man properly. The way he talks . . . and I never know what to do with the bloody umbrella . . . beyond the obvious."

"Okay," Anthea flopped back onto the pillows in resignation. "You be the doctor, then."

"What, Tennant or . . . ?"

"No, the real doctor, of course. John Watson. I _know_ you think he's cute, plus he's got that lovely gun to play with . . . "

The pout disappeared, and Sally rolled back on top of Anthea, kissing and nipping at her neck again. "Mmmm. Dr. Watson having his way with the boss at gunpoint. I like that a lot. But let's do it in the morning. Right now I'll just be Sally having my way with Anthea, all right?"

"Yes, please, Sergeant Donovan," whispered Anthea, weaving her fingers into Sally's soft curls, and feeling her thighs trembling again at the sensation of breath and teeth and tongue. "That sounds lovely."

 


End file.
